


Ficlet: In the Field

by scifishipper



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-08
Updated: 2012-08-08
Packaged: 2017-11-11 17:12:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/480911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scifishipper/pseuds/scifishipper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lee returns to the field one year later.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ficlet: In the Field

Lee doesn't know how he survived the past year on his own. Keeping busy had been easy. There were dwellings to build, land to farm and a rash of accidents that stretched his battlefield medicine to the limits.

Now, in the summer sun, having weathered a mild winter with more rain than snow, Lee sits on the hard ground, his vision obscured by tall grass waving in a mild breeze. He inhales, twisting a blade of pale green around his finger as he surveys the land. It is exactly the same as he'd left it a year ago, empty and vast, a rolling hill that the settlers had left untouched as they found less exposed areas to build. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't coaxed them away from this spot, the one with the gaping hole where Kara Thrace had last stood.

He doesn't visit often, mostly only on the days that he misses her the most. And today, one he'd marked in his crude calendar as being the equivalent of a year on this new world. His neighbors won't miss him for this one day, not now that everything has settled into a calm routine of farming, milling, making repairs and any number of other things that occupy his days.

He's been talking about her more these days, her name suddenly popping out of his mouth, usually with a smile or a laugh as he remembers one of her crazy stunts during the war. They reminisce a lot around the central fire as they roast meat and vegetables on the spit. He thinks she'd have liked it here.

A low-flying bird catches his gaze, floating in long swoops over the gentle arc of the landscape. A bird of prey he thinks, seeing the wide wingspan, edges of long-fingered feathers flapping gracefully against the blue sky. Lee lies back on the grass, his fingers knitted behind his head as he watches the bird circle round, spiraling slowly closer until he can see the ruby spot on its chest, the white flush of tail feathers: a fireheart, they'd named the species.

Suddenly, the bird dips sharply, swooping down and then disappearing for a moment before popping up again, claws wrapped around a small four-legged creature that shakes for a few long seconds before drooping and falling still.

Lee's eyes linger and then he closes them, the sun creating red pinpricks on his eyelids as he lets himself remember her last days, the busy planning, how they kept missing each other. She had already been lost to him, but he hadn’t realized it. He kept thinking that they had more time, that they’d settle down as friends and maybe someday, something more. He’d be patient, he’d told himself, wait for her to come around and try to be okay if she didn’t. He’d love her either way.

What he never expected was that she wasn’t really Kara Thrace, but instead some angel (Lee swallows this word still – unable to believe it might be possible) that was sent to guide them to Earth. It always makes Lee stifle a chuckle to think of her and that word in the same context; she’d have laughed, too, raising her glass with a smirk or a joke. It’s something she’d never have wanted, he thinks, although he admits he’d never been too good at guessing her thoughts.

He’s had a million fantasies of life with her on this _Earth_ , but none of them quite capture how she’d be, spirited and bright and complaining about one million things. She would have brought this place to life for him, making certain that it meant something more than just surviving, because that’s what he’s been doing, he realizes, half-living and waiting for the rest to come. The rest, he knows, had her name written all over it and he wonders how long it will take to move on.

With a sigh, he pushes those thoughts aside. It’ll be time when it’s time and that’s not now. Instead, he imagines a flash of blond hair amidst the grass, rough laughter as she finds him, a reunion of scrabbling hands and kisses on her face.

Of him holding on forever.


End file.
